


Lessons Learned, Tomatoes Devoured

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Conquistador!Spain, Crack Torture, Empire!Britain, Gen, I don't even know anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2012-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Britain has had a bad, bad day. Luckily, he has a certain country trapped in his dungeons, and a basketful of a certain red fruit which said country would die for. Misery loves company, especially if it's your enemy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons Learned, Tomatoes Devoured

Britain grinned as he descended into the dungeon where he kept the old Spanish wanker. He had conquered Spain, but that bastard just kept pushing him and pushing him. His sarcastic remarks and insulting quips were really bloody getting on Britain’s nerves.

Elizabeth was being cold, so cold lately. Britain glared at nothing in particular as he thought of that bastard she had fallen in love with. She was bloody well married to him, the bitch. She didn’t need to go floozying after some fucking sod that screwed her handmaids for fun.

He shook his head, clearing it. No matter. That’s why he was coming down here anyway. He was going to relieve some frustration. And that Spanish idiot was going to get the worst of it.

Spain’s cell finally came in sight, the nation himself leaning against the wall, shrouded in shadow. His head snapped up upon his captor’s approach.

“What are you doing here? Here to torture me some more, bastard? I will never relent you know. My people, their will shall never be quashed! No matter what you do! My Spanish blood runs strong in me, and in my people! You will not prevail, in the end, you worthless piece of shit!”

Britain laughed, coming to sit next to the cell. “Oh, really? That’s lovely,” he said, looking in his basket. “Actually, though, I’m not here to inflict bodily harm on you. Nope. I just thought I’d pop in to keep you company.”

Spain stood up. “What the hell?”

His captor smiled evilly. “Yes, yes. But, while I’m here, I hope you don’t mind, I’m awfully hungry…”

He walked closer to Britain, an eyebrow raised. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Britain continued, paying his prisoner’s queries no mind. “You see, Queen Elizabeth has really taken to a certain vegetable from your country… the temalto, I believe?”

Spain’s eyes widened. “Tomato?”

“Yes, that’s it!” the other nation rejoiced, grinning viciously. He reached into the basket he brought with him. “Lovely things, aren’t they?” he said, pulling out one of the juicy red tomatoes.

Spain licked his lips.

“Oh, yes, they are magnificent vegetables-“

“Fruits,” Spain interrupted unthinkingly.

Britain’s eyes snapped to Spain, malice in them. “Fine,” he spat. “Fruits then.”

Spain flinched, eyeing the Empire warily. Britain however, merely swallowed, and shrugged.

“Well, they’re quite wonderful,” he said. He took a bite.

Spain stared at it. The tomato was so perfect, so round, so scrumptious. Juice dripped seductively from where Britain had bit it. Spain’s mouth watered.

Britain slowly, painstakingly, ate the tomato. Spain’s eyes followed the tomato’s every move. When he was done, Britain smacked his lips. “How delightful, that tomato was. I quite think I’ll have another.”  
Spain’s eyes flew to the basket. His captor opened the lid, revealing innumerable beautiful, red, perfect, plump, round, wonderful tomatoes.

He drooled.

The blonde empire lifted yet another up, and licked it… slowly… tauntingly.

Spain ran his tongue along his lower lip, panting with want. “B-Britain… c-can I please have s-some?” he said quietly, pleadingly.

Britain took a huge bite, chewing thoughtfully. The silence was agonizing to Spain, but he stayed quiet, subservient.

Finally, after what felt like a century, but was actually around thirty seconds, Britain swallowed.

“No,” he said, shrugging, and pulled out another one.

“What?”

“Nope,” he said, biting into another one.

“B-but Britain!” Spain cried. “They’re tomatoes. The fruit of my country! How – how could you?”

“Like this,” Britain replied, finishing off another.

Spain wailed loudly, clutching the bars of his prison so hard his knuckles turned white. “You… bastard!!!”

“Indeed,” Britain agreed, slowly sinking his teeth into yet another juicy red fruit.

“HOW CAN YOU DO THIS TO ME?”

“With pleasure.”

“Please! I’ll do anything! I’ll give you all my land, except for Romano’s area. I’ll give away my people. Anything! Don’t just eat them in front of me like that! Gaaaah!”

Britain grinned. He let his hand, holding a fresh tomato, fall to his side. “What was that? You’ll give me your land? Your people? Will you do my will?”

“YES! ANYTHING!”

“But… wouldn’t that qualify as me quashing your will? And that of your people? Isn’t that you relenting?”

“YES~!” Spain agreed, bobbing his head frantically.

Britain leaned against the cage, arm not holding the tomato resting on one of the metal bars. “Well…” he said. Then he took a long, juicy bite of the tomato, liquid dribbling down his chin. Spain stared open mouthed, heart falling to the floor in a puddle of disbelief. Britain swallowed.

“Nope.”

Then he went back to the basket. “Oh, would you look at that?” he said happily. “That was the last one. What a shame. They were so very… succulent. Great vegetables.”

“Fruits, dammit! Fruuiiiits!!!” Spain cried, sobbing on the floor.

Britain smiled. “I hope you’ve learned something today.”

“I have no reason to live anymore,” the captive sobbed. “That’s what I learned.”

“Good boy,” the blonde said, eyes glinting evilly, as he began to ascend the stairs, feeling much better in himself for it.

**Author's Note:**

> All of this goes to a certain fanfiction from fanfiction.net... which the name of escapes me. I'll add it in later. Anyway, in said fanfiction, Britain (Arthur), Romano (Lovino), and Canada (Matthew), have been dumped by the Bad Touch Trio, and are plotting revenge. Britain suggests Lovino merely eat some tomatoes in front of Spain... and not let him have any... *evil laughter*


End file.
